by A. J. Low
“Yeun Technologies presents the Hover Car! Would you like a demonstration?”
The timing of the audio was definitely out of sync with what was happening, but no one seemed to care or perhaps they just couldn’t hear her. I could barely hear Dr Yeun’s voice over the roar of the audience.
The Dark Defender then flew the car upwards and crashed through a set of darkened windows at the very top of the stage area, letting in the sunlight. The shouts of excitement from the crowd were the loudest sounds I had ever heard in my entire life—it obscured the noise that the falling glass made as it hit the stage floor and shattered.
“Is that stunt glass?” I heard Nazhar shout at Wendy who winced and mimed at him that she couldn’t understand what he was saying because everything else was deafening.
The crowd screamed even louder. Dr Yeun reappeared off-stage, her eyes huge and her lips tightly pressed together. To me, she looked oddly worried. I wondered why, since the reception from the audience was incredible—it seemed like the performance she had arranged was going spectacularly well. She turned to look at Dad who was standing not too far away, but before she could say anything, two men ran up to her: a tall one with long, brownish hair, a moustache and beard, and a guitar strapped to his back, and the other slightly shorter with close-cropped black hair, glasses and a shiny suit. He had an axe strapped to his back. Comic-Con was awesome.
“Dr Yeun, that was amazing!” the taller man with the guitar said, grabbing on to her hand and shaking it vigorously. The doctor looked irritated for a brief moment, but she quickly recovered and smiled pleasantly.
“It really was! How did you get the Dark Defender to show up?” the shorter one with the axe asked. “We’ve been trying to get a hold of her to appear in comic book stores in New York. It has been impossible!”
Dr Yeun hesitated for a moment and then leaned conspiratorially closer. Her smile widened, but I noticed that it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you, Scott and Ku. But I’m sure you’ll understand that I can’t reveal all my secrets right away. However, I appreciate your strong support during Comic-Con and I promise we’ll talk soon.” With that, she turned and walked away to where Dad, Mom and Inspector Lestrade were. She had a quick word with Dad, and the grown-ups discreetly moved a slight distance away from us. Dad saw me watching and gave me a look over his shoulder that seemed to say, “Patience, young Padawan. All will be revealed soon.”
The two men grinned at each other and then the taller one rushed onto the stage. He grabbed a microphone and shouted, “How amazing was that? The Dark Defender, everyone!”
The crowd continued cheering, but we had stopped. My Spidey-senses were tingling. Something was up. I gestured to the Supper Club that we needed to move closer to where the adults were.
Once we were close enough, I heard Dr Yeun quietly say, “Inspector, I need your help. My Hover Car has been stolen.”
Dr Yeun had confirmed what I had begun to suspect—the appearance of the famous Dark Defender was not a publicity stunt after all. I knew we needed more information on this mysterious superhero, and the two people who seemed to know the most about her were just coming off the main stage.
“C’mon, guys. We need to talk to them,” I said to the Supper Club, gesturing at the two men that Dr Yeun had referred to as Ku and Scott. Dad, Mom and Inspector Lestrade were next to Dr Yeun, still deep in conversation. I knew that as long as we didn’t wander too far, my parents would be okay with us questioning the two men. We quickly made our way forward and intercepted them before they could leave the area.
“Oh wow! Look at you guys!” the man with the glasses and axe said. “Your costumes are awesome!”
“Indeed they are,” the taller man said, nodding. “Molly Hayes is one of my favourite characters.” He gave a thumbs-up to Jimmy, who beamed.
“Hello, Mr Ku and Mr Scott,” I said. I had automatically wanted to call them both Uncle, but from my research before the trip, I had learned that in America, kids didn’t go around calling grown-ups “Uncles” or “Aunties”. That was reserved primarily for family members. “My name is Sherlock Sam and I’m a—”
“Are you from Singapore?” Mr Ku interrupted. “I can recognise that accent anywhere in the world.”
“Oh man, I love Singapore,” Mr Scott said, nodding.
“Especially the chilli crab,” Mr Ku continued looking excited, his axe wobbling against his back. “With deep fried mantou. Though the steamed ones are pretty good too.”
I almost started to discuss the merits of eating chilli crab with steamed versus deep-fried mantou and where they could find the best chilli crab in Singapore, but Wendy coughed loudly and I was reminded of the questions that I wanted to ask the two men. I cleared my throat.
“Mister—” I started.
“You can drop the Mister, kid,” Mr Scott said. “Scott and Ku are just fine.”
“Er, Scott. Okay.” It felt weird calling grown-ups by just their first names, but I had learnt that a good detective had to adapt quickly to situations. “My dad is friends with Dr Yeun and I couldn’t help but overhear the both of you telling her about how you have been trying to get the Dark Defender to make appearances in comic book stores in New York?”
“Yeah, man. We knew that fans would love it, but we haven’t been able to contact her publicity people at all,” Scott said, shrugging. His guitar shifted slightly. Unlike Ku’s axe, it looked real.
“Especially since Midtown Comics in New York started selling prints of her. They can’t get them printed fast enough,” Ku added.
“Prints, as in photographs?” Wendy asked.
Ku nodded.
“What makes you think she has publicity people?” Eliza asked, crossing her arms across her chest. Her bushy tail bobbed.
“We—well, er, I mean, well...that’s actually a good question,” Scott looked over at his friend. “Ku? A little help here?”
“Hurm. We just assumed…hmm… Good point,” Ku replied, looking at Eliza. “I suppose you’re too young for me to offer you a job?”
Eliza rolled her eyes, but I could have sworn that I saw a faint blush creep up in her cheeks.
Just then, I noticed Dad and Mom gesturing at us to come over. I quickly thanked Ku and Scott who rushed off muttering about what to do if the Dark Defender didn’t in fact have marketing and publicity people. However, just before I reached my parents, something occurred to me. I turned and rushed back to Ku and Scott and handed them my homemade business card. I also requested that they contact me if they found out how to get in touch with the Dark Defender. Both looked confused but nodded.
As we gathered around the grown-ups, Dad said, “Son, I think you’re going to want to hear this.”
Dr Yeun looked dubiously at me but then took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. Clearly, whatever Inspector Lestrade had said about the Supper Club had left an impression. Dr Yeun proceeded to confirm my suspicion that the Hover Car had in fact been stolen.
“I knew that glass looked too real to be stunt glass,” Nazhar muttered under his breath.
“My cell has been ringing off the hook with messages and calls from our investors. They’re extremely pleased to see the car in action and even more pleased to see the immense reaction from the crowd. Our social media has been exploding with positive comments,” Dr Yeun said.
“But that’s a good thing, right?” Wendy said.
“Not necessarily,” I replied. “Especially since Dr Yeun doesn’t actually know where the Hover Car is right now.”
The professor nodded. “My investors are already talking about putting in more money to mass produce the car. If they found out that our prototype has been stolen…”
She trailed off. I could see her hands were clenched at her sides. One hand was clutching on to her cell phone, which was blinking and vibrating furiously with what had to be incoming calls and messages.
“Sam, Inspector Lestrade has been telling Dr Yeun about how you and your friends have been working wit
h Interpol,” Mom said.
“I would like to hire you as a Consulting Detective,” Dr Yeun interrupted. “Inspector Lestrade speaks very highly of you and I obviously cannot go to the police with this. Not with my investors breathing down my neck and my competitors waiting in the wings.” She paused and gave me a considering look. “What are your charges?”
I blinked.
I looked at Dad and Mom who looked back at me with wide eyes.
I blinked again.
I turned to look at Watson who used his camouflage function to turn himself a deep green. Moran’s compartment flipped open and he pulled out a scone, which he politely offered me. I almost automatically accepted the snack, but then thought better of it and retracted my hand. Jimmy took the scone instead. I admit, I felt a pang of regret.
Wendy, Eliza and Nazhar just shrugged. Jimmy scratched his head, which was covered with a wig, and continued chewing contemplatively.
What I charged? I had no idea. I had never been asked that before.
Then it hit me.
“A lifetime supply of deep fried chicken wings?”
“SAMUEL TAN CHER LOCK!” my mother and father exclaimed simultaneously.
Dr Yeun looked confused.
“What my son means to say, Dr Yeun,” my mom said, glaring at me, “is that for a case as important as this, he and his friends would be glad to help without charging any fees. Plus, we are here because of the generosity of Interpol, so it’s only right that we assist Inspector Lestrade with her investigation of the Dark Defender.”
“About that…” the inspector said, wrinkling her nose. She stopped when Mom looked at her. “Is something that we can discuss another time, yes?”
“If you’re sure…” Dr Yeun said hesitantly.
“Yes, Dr Yeun,” I replied. “It’s a case with a superhero and a Hover Car. There’s nothing that would keep us away from investigating this.”
“Except-a-giant-plate-of-chicken-wings,” Watson helpfully added. I was getting very good at ignoring my robot.
“In that case, I will email Inspector Lestrade with all the information I have on the car. I’ll need to fly back first thing tomorrow morning to reassure my investors that all is well to avoid any panic.” She paused, then crouched down to look me in the eye. She put her hands on my shoulders and said, “Thank you, young man. I’ll make this up to you somehow. A tour of our facilities perhaps—we do have some still-secret tech that I’m sure you will get a kick out off.”
Standing up, she gave a quick smile to my parents before briskly walking away.
I was about to say something to Mom and Dad, but my tummy betrayed me. All the talk about chilli crabs, mantou, chicken wings and scones had made me hungry.
“Dinnertime, Sam?” Dad asked, grinning.
“Food fuels my detective brain,” I replied, trying to look as serious as I could with a growling tummy.
Inspector Lestrade excused herself. She said she would need to check in with Interpol on any updates they had about the Dark Defender. What the supposed superhero had just done seemed highly out of character for someone that had so far only performed good deeds. I secretly suspected that the inspector would appear in cosplay later while we were having dinner.
We all went to a Mexican restaurant called Tacos El Gordo that Nazhar had discovered during his extensive research of San Diego. It suddenly occurred to me that Nazhar was not glued to a guidebook that was flagged with multiple Post-its the way he was when we visited Tokyo. When I asked him why, he said that he was trying to learn to “go with the flow”. When I asked him what that meant he groaned and said he had no idea. But Jimmy, Wendy and Eliza had hidden his San Diego guidebook somewhere in school back in Singapore, and that was what they told him. Quietly, I offered to find it for him for one deep fried wing when we were back at school. We shook on the deal.
Tacos El Gordo, which loosely translated to “Tacos From the Fat Guy”, according to Watson, was filled with people speaking a mix of Spanish and English. It didn’t look like a restaurant that was frequented by tourists, which was fantastic because it meant that the food would be inexpensive and authentic. People were queuing up in long lines, and behind the counter were rows and rows of grilling meats. The smell wafting over was utterly delicious.
Dad, Eliza, Watson and I queued to order while the rest of the Supper Club secured our seats. There were nine of us so we needed two booths that were preferably next to each other. Dad wanted to just leave tissue packets to chope our spots, but Mom said that she didn’t think that would work here. People only use tissue packets to reserve seats in Singapore, it seems.
The menu was written entirely in Spanish, but Watson, after much prodding, translated it into English for us using his translation programme. It was one of the programmes he had installed in himself, and boy, was I glad for it. If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have known I had the option to order beef and chicken in my tacos!
When we had collected all our food, we sat down and started to eat. The food tasted as delicious as it smelled!
Suddenly, Watson said, “I-have-made-a-breakthrough.”
“Waugh?” I mumbled, my mouth full of deliciousness.
“There-has-been-a-sighting-of-an-unidentified-flying-object-heading-towards-New-York,” Watson said.
“Wait, what?” I said, finally swallowing my mouthful of food and wiping my mouth with a napkin. “Where is your information coming from?”
“I-downloaded-an-air-traffic-controller-app,” Watson replied. “It-taps-into-the-information-that-air-traffic-controller-stations-receive.”
“Wow. I didn’t know such an app existed,” Dad said. “That sounds spectacular!”
“I-learned-about-it-from-a-friend-who-loves-airplanes,” Watson said.
Wait, Watson had friends besides us?
“What can the app do, Watson?” Jimmy asked.
“Listen,” Watson said.
We all leaned in closer as indistinct chatter started emanating from my robot. Voices were giving instructions, directions and positions of airplanes! Watson must have been tuned into multiple frequencies because their voices were a jumble. Still, it sounded extremely complicated and utterly fascinating! Watson then adjusted the frequency so that only one voice remained.
“Yes. I have confirmation. An unidentified flying object spotted heading northeast over the San Diego Zoo. The altitude of the unidentified flying object does not interfere with any current flight path. Repeat. The altitude of the unidentified flying object does not interfere with any current flight path. Over.”
“But it might not be the Hover Car,” I said to myself. After all, there was always the possibility of intelligent alien life. Nothing had been proven or disproven.
Watson’s speakers crackled to life once again.
“Er…unidentified flying object is shaped like a what? Repeat? Over,” the disembodied voice questioned. For the first time there was some emotion in the voice that we heard.
There was burst of static.
“A what? Repeat?”
More static.
“A flying car?!”
Watson had stayed up all night listening to the various frequencies of airport control towers across the country. He took great glee in waking Dad, Nazhar, Jimmy and me up at 7am to complain about how hard he had been working throughout the night while the rest of us snoozed. When I asked him what he had discovered, he refused to reveal any details until I had made sufficiently apologetic noises about putting him to work without any rest. While I was spluttering with indignation, Dad received a call from Inspector Lestrade. She had made all the necessary arrangements for us to fly to New York using the Interpol jet. She had also arranged for us to stay at a rented apartment in Brooklyn. However, she couldn’t meet us at the airport because she had to fly to Washington, DC, to meet with her colleagues stationed at the National Central Bureau. Dad immediately called the room where Mom, Wendy, Eliza and Moran stayed, to tell them to get ready.
“Wait,” I said, c
oming out from the bathroom where I was in the middle of brushing my teeth. “How did Inspector Lestrade know that we needed to head to New York?”
“Elementary-my-dear-Sherlock,” Watson replied. “I-called-her-last-night-while-the-rest-of-you-rested-and-left-me-suffering-all-by-myself.”
I knew I was not going to hear the end of this the entire trip, and probably for at least three weeks after we returned to Singapore.
We had been sad to leave the convention so soon (there were still three days left of geeky goodness!), but we knew the case could not wait. Inspector Lestrade had made arrangements for an 11.30am flight. This meant we had to be at the airport by 9.30am, so we had to rush. That didn’t even leave us any time for breakfast! However, while we waited for the hotel van to take us to the airport, we read up on New York using the free computer that was located in the hotel lobby. The more we read the more excited we all got!
It seemed like the city had everything: Wendy was excited to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Museum of Modern Art, Nazhar was making plans to visit the New York Historical Society and watch Hamilton on Broadway, Jimmy wanted to run around FAO Schwarz, the oldest toy store in the US, Eliza wanted to visit the Explorer’s Club, Mom wanted to try as many dishes in as many restaurants as possible and visit every bookstore she could, Watson and Moran wanted to visit the Museum of Mathematics and check out their robot swarm, and Dad and I wanted to go to the Hayden Planetarium at the American Museum of Natural History to see if we could meet our hero Dr Neil deGrasse Tyson!
But we would have to solve this mystery first.
As we flew across the country, I thought back to my comics and the various heroes that had turned into villains over time. Had the Dark Defender decided to stop helping victims of crime? What would cause her to stop believing in truth, justice and the American way? And why steal the Hover Car? Was she planning an even more daring heist that required a flying vehicle?
We landed at JFK International Airport in New York about six hours after we left San Diego. However, because New York was three hours ahead of San Diego, it was already almost 9.30pm when we finally emerged from customs. I found travel across international time zones quite fascinating and felt the urgent need to tell someone about it right that very moment.
